


You Belong With Me

by thisisthefamilybusiness



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Cannibalism, Canon-Typical Violence, Dark Crack, Hannibal Lecter is still the world's worst friend and psychiatrist, M/M, Murder, Obsessive Behaviour, Possessive Hannibal, Questionable Psychiatry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-17
Updated: 2013-06-17
Packaged: 2017-12-15 05:45:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/845995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisisthefamilybusiness/pseuds/thisisthefamilybusiness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is a special place at Hannibal Lecter’s dinner table for people who ruin his most carefully-laid plans, accompanied by an excellent vintage of wine and his finest china place settings. There is an exceptionally special place reserved for Will's new boyfriend, who Hannibal has considered killing more times and in more ways than he was Freddie Lounds, which is quite a feat, considering that Hannibal had recipes and a wine list selected for the moment she ceased to be of any use to him. </p><p>(Fill for the following prompt on HannibalKink: "Will met a man whom he could finally seek peace in his arms. They developed a romantic relationship despite Will’s (unclear/uncertain) affection for Dr. Hannibal Lecter. Hannibal was not pleased with it. At all. He murdered Will’s lover boy and fed him to Will.")</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Belong With Me

There is a special place at Hannibal Lecter’s dinner table for people who ruin his most carefully-laid plans, accompanied by an excellent vintage of wine and his finest china place settings.

There is an _exceptionally_ special place reserved for Dr. Christophe Dubois, who Hannibal has considered killing more times and in more ways than he was Freddie Lounds, which is quite a feat, considering that Hannibal had recipes and a wine list selected for the moment she ceased to be of any use to him.

Hannibal has spent nearly all forty-six of his years on Earth mastering the art of controlling his mind, his body, and his environment, and he prides himself on his abilities. He hadn’t experienced an irrational impulse since he finished puberty, and he certainly hadn’t ever felt jealousy—if he wanted something, he took it, by whatever means necessary.

Dr. Christophe Dubois, it seems, did not receive _that_ particular memo, because each time Will Graham mentions him, Hannibal is suddenly overwhelmed with _both_ covetousness and an uncharacteristically impetuous urge to slice Dr. Dubois’s belly open and watch the life bleed from his eyes, possibly while Will watched.

Hannibal doesn’t usually consider himself too extreme a sadist, but listening to Will monologue about the fantastic Christophe (who could possibly walk on water and turn it into wine while he was at it, if the way Will talked was any indication) during their sessions, he has begun to see the appeal.

* * *

Dr. Christophe Dubois was French, immigrated to America to attend Johns Hopkins and currently working as a rather successful psychiatrist, fluent in four languages and able to play the piano with some skill, a wealthy patron of the arts, and, as Hannibal had been so pleased to note in the beginning, essentially a younger, less accomplished, French version of Dr. Lecter himself.

Hannibal had imagined Will’s infatuation with Dr. Dubois would end once the FBI caught the murderer behind the death of one of the doctor’s patients and they went their separate ways so that Hannibal could use how alike he was to Dr. Dubois to his advantage, but it did not.

No; if anything, it only deepened. Will stopped calling him Dr. Dubois (pronounced, Hannibal noted with irritation, perfectly in the French manner) and began referring to him as _Christophe_. Will showed up late for his session with Hannibal by fifteen minutes, blushing pink, his clothes and hair a mess, stammering that a date with Christophe had run a little longer than expected.

Hannibal didn’t need to  be an excellent psychiatrist to put this particular equation together.

It was final in his mind now. Dr. Dubois had to go.

* * *

“Will, I don’t believe Dr. Dubois should be our focus. The purpose of our conversations is to work on improving your mental well-being. Dr. Dubois sounds like a fine young man, but he is not the one I have been asked to help.”

Will doesn’t pause from his pacing on the balcony of Hannibal’s office. “I haven’t lost time, I haven’t hallucinated, I haven’t woken up on my roof.”

“Have you been sleepwalking at all? Even in your own house?”

“No.”

It’s apparent to Hannibal that this line of conversation isn’t going to work. It is, to use a phrase from Jack Crawford’s vocabulary, time to play dirty.

“Tell me, Will, are you sexually active with your boyfriend?”

Will does pause at that, frozen, expression horrified. “What kind of question is that?”

“As your psychiatrist it is important that I know every possible influence on your mental state. I will not judge you for anything you tell me, Will.”

“This seems a bit beyond professional psychiatry, Dr. Lecter.”

“If I was your general physician and asked you the same question, you would answer truthfully, no? I am bound by doctor-patient confidentiality, if that is your concern, Will; I ask because I am looking to see what we can do to ensure your improvement continues. Were you sexually active prior to your relationship with Dr. Dubois?”

Will doesn’t relax any, but he does close his eyes and lean against the bookshelf a little more. “Yes, I am _sexually active_ ,” he sighs, throwing up finger quotation marks around ‘sexually active’. “And no, I wasn’t before, but I haven’t been a virgin since college.”

“Do you feel like being in sexual relationship with Dr. Dubois has contributed to your improvement in health?”

“No—maybe. I don’t know.”

“Were you aware that Dr. Dubois and I have a very similar background and set of interests? We even attended the same medical school.” Hannibal keeps his tone neutral, but Will still sputters, opening and closing his mouth several times wordlessly like he was trying to think of what to say but unable to come up with a proper reply.

“So?” Will finally stammers out. “You’re both psychiatrists and like art, a lot of people fit that profile.” He crosses his arms tightly across his chest. “I’m a grown man, I can date whoever I want.”

“I was merely making an observation, Will,” Hannibal says mildly.

“I think this session is over.” Will climbs down and grabs his coat from the black leather armchair without another word.

_Perfect._

* * *

Dr. Dubois storms into Hannibal’s office at lunchtime the next day with more fury than Hannibal has seen on anyone in quite a while.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” he shouts, slamming the door behind himself with more force than necessary.

Dr. Dubois’s accent is lighter than Hannibal had imagined, he observes, taking another bite of his spring salad and relishing the way the other man grew redder and redder in rage at every moment he didn’t answer.

“I asked you a question!” Dr. Dubois repeats.

Hannibal swallows his salad slowly. “There is no need to be rude, Doctor.”

“Will refused to talk to me after I picked him up from his appointment with you! What did you tell him?”

“I told Will nothing. We had a perfectly ordinary session. If he was upset, it had nothing to do with our appointment.”

Dr. Dubois is now bright red all the way to the roots of his dark brown hair. He slams his fist down onto Hannibal’s desk. “You are lying.”

“I assure you, I am not.”

“Bullshit.” Dr. Dubois sweeps his hand over Hannibal’s desk, knocking over Hannibal’s salad bowl and cup of pens.

Hannibal inhales slowly and rises from his desk chair with more composure than he’s ever had to force in his life, pocket knife clenched in his hand.

Oh, how he is going to _enjoy_ killing Dr. Dubois.

* * *

“Christophe—Christophe is dead, the Ripper killed him,” Will mumbles, looking lost and desolate standing on Hannibal’s porch.

Hannibal slips on a concerned expression, resting a hand on Will’s shoulder and leading him into his house. “I’m sorry, Will. Please, I was just sitting down to dinner, have you eaten yet?”

“No.”

“Food may make you feel better, then. Come in.”

* * *

It’s a simple meal: braised heart in wine, with generous slices of fresh-baked French bread on the side.

Will has long since stopped crying, but he’s still obviously distraught, silent now, eating like a starved man, asking for seconds of everything.

Hannibal has to fight back a smile as he fixes a second helping for Will, eyes locked on him as Will so eagerly swallows down the heart of the man he said he loved.

“I have dessert as well. Dark chocolate ice cream,” Hannibal offers quietly. “Homemade.” Homemade, featuring gelatine Hannibal had boiled himself from Dr. Dubois’s bones.

Will smiles feebly through the hurt still plain in his eyes at that, and Hannibal allows himself a grin in return.

“Thank you, Hannibal.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I have no logical defence for my misuse of Taylor Swift lyrics for fic titles at this point. None at all.


End file.
